Bloodthirsty

A primitive mood
has crept upon Me
in such a corrosive fashion.

 I long to embrace You,
for I am bloodthirsty—
abducted by thoughts of wild abandon.

Fumbling, I am—
willing to admit
I’d bear the earthborn scars
of Your gushing morsel.

(Bleed into Me!)

(Succumb to My tongue!)

Let passion be Our servant.
Not reason. Nor grace.
Let Us be fugitives.
From lipstick. From lace.

Let us flirt with bloodsport
like carnies in Spring.
Let conspiracy preclude atonement;
allow Heaven to bring.

I seek that soft delicacy
that only You can bear:
that sacred juice from Your heart.
I wish You would share.